The Family Holmes: Mrs Hudson
by wen-parmadol
Summary: A point in time when Mummy and Sherlock weren't as close as previously seen.


The Family Holmes: Mrs. Hudson

A/N: Hola, amigos. So, my longer story is still pretty much at a standstill. I wrote this to get the creativity flowing, and because someone asked for more Harry. I hope you enjoy.

Harry entered 221 Baker Street, looking around the dark hallway curiously. So this is the home of Mrs. Vivian Hudson. When Mycroft had told him about her, Harry had immediately set camp outside under his invisibility cloak, debating whether he should enter or not. It wasn't like anyone was waiting for him at home, his work at St Mungo's could wait for a while, and Harry wanted to see her for himself.

Mrs. Hudson left the house a few times in the days he stayed there, leaving for groceries and talking to neighbors. She looked to be older than Harry, but that was probably only because Harry didn't age much. He still looked forty, thanks to magic. She reminded him slightly of Mrs. Weasley, always bustling about.

He took a deep breath before going to the door of 221A and knocking. She answered after a few moments, smiling politely. "Hello," he said. "You must be Mrs. Hudson."

"Yes I am, dear," she answered. "And you are?"

"Harry. Harry Potter-Holmes." She gave a little gasp, and he smiled tightly. "May I come in?"

"Of course, of course, let me get you some tea. I just made a fresh pot."

He looked around her flat curiously. It was a little dark, but she cheered it up with floral wallpaper and light colored paint and furniture. He sat at the small kitchen table as she scampered about, putting biscuits and a cuppa in front of him.

"There you are, dear. So you must be his brother—what is it—Michael?"

"His mother, actually. Mycroft wouldn't dream of making social calls."

"His mother? I'm sorry, you are just so young, and well, when Sherlock mentioned his Mummy, I pictured—"

"A woman," Harry filled in with no trace of bitterness. "I wouldn't think he would talk much of me at all, so the confusion is understandable."

"So how can I help you?" She asked, a little awkward. "I'm afraid Sherlock hasn't stopped by for a day or two."

"I just wanted to talk. How is he?"

"He's alright. You know he is consulting for Scotland Yard from time to time now?"

"Mycroft has mentioned it." Mrs. Hudson tried to ignore the darkness in the smile.

"Well, I think it is good for him. Gives him focus. Plus that detective says Sherlock can't work on cases if he was still using…well…"

"Drugs," Harry supplied helpfully. "I know."

"That's right." Silence fell, neither sure how to act. Abruptly Harry stood up, heading for the door and Mrs. Hudson didn't stop him.

"I should go." At the door, he paused. When he turned around, he couldn't hide the wetness in his eyes. "I want you to know that I love my son," he choked. "I've always wanted what was best for him. Somewhere along the line he decided that I couldn't help him. I fought so hard for him. I tried to help, but…" He cut off, panting. She was up in an instant, patting his shoulder consolingly.

"He didn't want or need my help," he continued. "He got so lost…but I'm glad that someone was there to fix him when I couldn't. I want to thank you for taking care of him."

"It's no trouble at all, dear," she soothed. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind you visiting…"

"No, he doesn't want me around," he smiled bravely. "Will you make sure he eats? He tends to ignore his body. If you put food in his hand, he won't even realize he's eating."

"Of course, dear."

"And when he gets hurt from one experiment or another, give him a puzzle of some sort. It'll keep him still enough for you to bandage him."

"Of course."

"And when he's in one of his moods, he likes to have his hair rubbed, though he will deny it. It calms him down a little."

"I'll take good care of him, don't you worry." She hugged him tightly, and he sagged against her for a moment. Then he straightened, wishing her a good day before he left.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head sadly. What was she going to do with that boy…

Xxx

Harry entered 221 Baker Street for the second time of his life, though this time he was going upstairs. John had invited him over for dinner, and he didn't know what to think. Did Sherlock even want him here? He was probably intruding. He could turn around now, give Sherlock his space. Truly, it was probably for the best to give his son privacy…

"Mummy, you made it," John said as he opened the door, and Harry cursed silently, though his small smile didn't show it.

"Hello, John. I should probably go though, I seem to have made too many appointments for today…"

"Oh," John frowned. "Surely you can stay for a little while, at least? I have so many questions to ask you."

"I-I guess so," Harry stammered. John smiled, pulling his surrogate mother in. the door. The wizard took a look at his surrounding with amusement. The flat screamed Sherlock, with accents of John. The detective he saw was sitting in the kitchen working on an experiment.

"Sherlock, Mummy is here, put your experiment away," the doctor chastised, but Harry just smiled.

"It's alright, John. I did raise him, after all. I'm used to it." Sherlock, for his part, didn't move.

"Oh no," John shook his head as he walked to the table. "You came for dinner, you are going to sit at an actual table. Sherlock you have 10 seconds before I throw everything into a garbage bag indiscriminately."

"But John," Sherlock whined.

"5 seconds."

Sherlock glared at the shorter man before collecting his things to bring to his room. John just rolled his eyes before going over the table with a disinfectant wipe. Harry smiled, sitting on the couch. Sherlock came back and promptly lay down with his head in his lap.

"Mummy," Sherlock grumbled. Harry just ran his hand through the wild curls with a fond smile.

"Hello, Sherlock."

The evening passed rather well. Harry ended up staying longer after all. After the fabulous dinner of John's special lasagna, Harry settled back on the couch, John sat in his armchair, and Sherlock played his violin by the window. Mrs. Hudson came up with a tea tray.

She fussed around like she usually did, and Harry truly tried not to feel awkward. Once again, he felt like he was intruding. Sherlock didn't need him; he had John and Mrs. Hudson. He didn't have a place for his mother.

All of a sudden he found himself with lanky man in his lap again, sea green eyes staring up at him. Getting over his surprise, Harry started his customary petting. Mrs. Hudson hid a smile and settled into Sherlock's armchair.

Eventually Harry did have to go. Mrs. Hudson gave him a hug before heading downstairs, and John gave him a quick follow-up. "You should come over more often," the doctor said. "You must be lonely in that big house, and I could also use your company. The more people who can put up with Sherlock, the better."

"I don't know," Harry looked down. "I don't want to impose…" Arms wrapped around him from behind, and the wizard looked up at his son.

"I wouldn't hate having you around more often," Sherlock whispered, and Harry smiled brilliantly.

"I suppose I can make more time."


End file.
